Chronicle 6
“The
Wren”
Zasaramel patted Willow's neck as he approached the hitching
post.
The mare snorted and nudged his shoulder.
"I'll be back," Zas muttered.
The words felt strange.
These days, everything felt strange.
Shaheen emerged from the small office beside the stable,
wiping his hands on a rag.
"Morning."
Zas nodded.
"Morning."
Shaheen took Willow's reins.
"How long?"
"One day. Two at most."
Shaheen nodded.
"I'll make sure she's fed."
Zas handed over the receipt from the Blue Shield account.
The clan maintained funds for travel and emergencies. The Elder had authorized
the expense without hesitation.
The internet connection was important.
Or so everyone had discovered after it stopped working.
Karim had always handled it.
Nobody had realized how much Karim handled until he wasn't
there anymore.
Now the communal connection sat dead.
Zas had spent two evenings attempting repairs himself.
He had checked cables.
He had restarted equipment.
He had cursed at it.
Nothing worked.
So now he was making the trip to Behrain.
A journey that Karim probably could have avoided entirely.
Another reminder.
Another absence.
Another hole.
Zas watched Willow disappear into the stable.
For a moment he considered turning around.
Returning home.
Waiting another day.
...but the thought vanished quickly.
Home.
The word no longer brought comfort.
Only questions.
He walked toward the roadside shelter and sat on a weathered
wooden bench.
The mountains stretched around him.
The same mountains he had spent his entire life defending.
The same mountains he once believed were the center of the
world.
Now they felt smaller.
Or perhaps he felt older.
A cold wind blew through the valley.
Zas adjusted his cloak.
His thoughts drifted.
Phoebe.
Armintie.
Arel-Sin.
Karim.
The Council.
One by one they arrived.
One by one they refused to leave.
Phoebe's tearful face.
Armintie's terrified smile.
Arel-Sin asking whether his family was gone.
Karim freezing to death somewhere in the snow.
The Elder refusing to authorize a search.
The memories came without invitation.
Zas clenched his jaw.
He had spent years believing discipline solved everything.
Follow the rules.
Do your duty.
Honor the Order.
Yet somehow he had done all those things.
...and still everything had fallen apart.
The thought appeared again.
Leave.
The word arrived so quietly he almost missed it.
Leave Daral Valley.
Leave the Blue Shield.
Leave the Blade.
He immediately pushed the thought away.
The idea was ridiculous.
Where would he even go?
Rome?
Kanem-Bornu?
America?
Anglia?
Places he had spent years criticizing.
Places he had called decadent.
Soft.
Corrupt.
Yet lately he found himself wondering.
Were they truly worse?
Or merely different?
The thought irritated him.
So he pushed it away again.
...and once again it returned.
A horse-drawn wagon rattled into view.
The driver waved.
Several passengers already occupied the benches.
An elderly woman.
Two traders.
A student reading a book.
The driver slowed.
"Behrain!"
Zas considered it.
It would get him there.
Eventually.
He looked at the crowded wagon.
Then at the road ahead.
"No."
The driver shrugged and continued onward.
Silence returned.
Zas sat alone.
The minutes passed.
Then, in the distance, he heard the unmistakable growl of an
engine.
A guild bus emerged around the bend.
Old.
Ugly.
Paint peeling from its sides.
Yet reliable.
The bus stopped beside the shelter.
Its door hissed open.
The driver leaned out.
"Behrain."
Zas stood.
For a moment he looked back toward the mountains.
Toward Daral Lake.
Toward home.
He expected certainty.
Instead he felt doubt.
The realization unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
The driver sounded the horn.
Impatient.
Zas climbed aboard.
The door shut behind him.
The bus pulled away.
...and for the first time in many years, Zasaramel found
himself wondering whether the world beyond the mountains might have something
worth learning from after all.
The bus was warmer than Zas expected.
Not warm, exactly.
Just warmer.
He paid his fare, nodded to the driver, and stepped down the
aisle.
Most of the seats were occupied.
Students.
Workers.
Traders.
An elderly man already asleep against the window.
Then he saw an empty seat.
Or rather, half of one.
A blonde woman occupied the window side.
Zas hesitated.
The woman looked up from her phone.
"Seat's free."
Zas nodded.
"Thank you."
He sat.
The bus lurched forward.
For several minutes neither spoke.
Zas stared out the window.
The mountains slowly retreated behind them.
His thoughts drifted back to Daral Lake.
Phoebe.
Armintie.
Arel-Sin.
Karim.
The internet.
The Council.
The same cycle repeated itself.
The woman beside him occasionally glanced in his direction.
Eventually she smiled.
"You always look that serious?"
Zas blinked.
"What?"
"You."
She pointed at him.
"You look like you're on your way to execute
someone."
Zas stared.
The woman laughed.
"Sorry."
The laugh was infectious.
Despite himself, Zas felt a small smile tug at his mouth.
"A lot on my mind."
"Fair."
The woman extended her hand.
"Joanna."
Zas looked at it.
Then shook it.
"Zasaramel."
Joanna raised an eyebrow.
"That is a very cool name."
"I could say the same about yours."
"Mine's normal."
Zas wasn't convinced.
Joanna wasn't what he'd expected to find on a bus.
She was exceptionally attractive.
Blonde hair.
Athletic build.
Bright eyes.
Confident.
Almost aggressively confident.
Most people left strangers alone.
This woman seemed determined to do the opposite.
"So where are you headed?"
"Behrain."
"Business?"
"The internet is broken."
Joanna blinked.
That was not the answer she expected.
"The internet?"
"My community's connection."
"Oh."
Joanna laughed.
"That might be the least exciting answer
possible."
"It is not exciting."
"What happened?"
"The man who knew how to fix it died."
Joanna's smile faded.
"Oh."
"His name was Karim."
"I'm sorry."
Zas nodded.
The conversation fell quiet for a moment.
Then Joanna brightened.
"Well."
"My reason is more exciting."
Zas looked at her.
"I'm a professional wrestler. I'm on my way to Mingora
for a show."
The statement meant absolutely nothing to him.
Joanna immediately noticed.
"You don't know what wrestling is."
"I know what wrestling is."
"Professional wrestling?"
"No."
Joanna laughed.
"Oh this is going to be fun."
She immediately opened her phone.
Before she could show him anything, Zas noticed the jacket
she was wearing.
The logo was impossible to miss.
A steam locomotive.
Blue and silver.
"Cleveland."
Joanna grinned.
"Born and raised."
"What does the logo mean?"
"Steamers...they're the local sports team. Surely you
know sports?"
"A little. You support them?"
"Of course."
"They are good?"
Joanna laughed so hard she nearly dropped her phone.
"No."
"No?"
"No."
"They're terrible."
"Then why support them?"
"Because they're my team."
The answer seemed perfectly reasonable.
Zas nodded.
"I understand."
"Right?"
"Yes."
Joanna pointed triumphantly.
"See?"
"You get it."
She leaned back.
"I'm Joanna Goldsmith."
"Well."
She paused.
"Technically."
"Technically?"
"My wrestling name is Trinity Dark."
"Why?"
"Because apparently the WFE thought 'Joanna Gold'
wasn't dramatic enough."
Zas accepted this explanation without understanding it.
The bus rolled onward.
Joanna eventually showed him footage on her phone.
A wrestling ring.
Bright lights.
Thousands of people.
Music.
Pyrotechnics.
Joanna entered the arena to a deafening reaction.
Zas stared.
"What is this?"
"My job."
The match began.
Joanna ran.
Jumped.
Struck another woman.
The crowd erupted.
Several minutes passed.
Joanna watched proudly.
Then she noticed something.
Zas was frowning.
Not impressed.
Studying.
Analyzing.
The same way he might study an opponent.
"What's wrong?"
Zas pointed.
"Your footwork."
Joanna blinked.
"My what?"
"Your footwork."
He rewound the video.
Pointed again.
"You cross your feet."
"You leave your balance exposed."
He continued watching.
"Your guard drops."
"You overcommit."
"You telegraph your movement."
"You jump too much."
Joanna stared.
Zas continued.
Completely unaware of what he was doing.
"The woman you're fighting also turns her shoulders
before striking."
"That reveals intent."
"Her stance is poor."
"Your timing is better than hers."
"...but you leave openings."
Joanna was speechless.
Zas finished the clip.
Then handed the phone back.
The silence lasted several seconds.
Finally Joanna asked:
"What do you do?"
"I'm part of the Order of the Blue Shield."
"What does that mean?"
"We are the tribe that protects Daral Lake. I help
train the younger members. I teach them how to survive."
Joanna nodded slowly.
"So you're basically a super-cool warrior monk."
"If that is how you wish to describe it."
That explained absolutely nothing and yet somehow explained
everything.
"Huh."
Another pause.
Then Joanna smiled.
"You know."
"A lot of people call me green."
"What does that mean?"
"It means inexperienced."
"Then they are correct."
Joanna burst out laughing.
Most people would have been offended.
For some reason she wasn't.
Instead she seemed fascinated.
"You're brutally honest."
"You asked."
"I did."
Another thought occurred to her.
"Could you train me?"
Zas blinked.
"What?"
"Train me."
"I am not a wrestler."
"You know movement."
"You know fighting."
"You clearly know things."
Zas considered it.
Then shook his head.
"I would not know how."
"You'd figure it out."
Joanna seemed completely convinced.
Zas was not.
"How would you contact me anyway?"
"Phone."
"I do not have one."
"What?"
"E-mail."
"I do not have one."
"What?"
"Social media."
"No."
Joanna stared.
"How do people find you?"
"They do not."
Joanna looked horrified.
Zas found this unfamiliar, and a little surprising.
"The Blue Shield have a communal phone."
"For emergencies."
"The internet is currently broken."
"That is why I am going to Behrain."
Joanna leaned back.
"That is the most ridiculous thing I've heard all
week."
Zas shrugged.
It seemed normal to him.
The bus slowed.
Buildings began appearing outside.
The outskirts of Behrain.
People started collecting their belongings.
Zas stood.
The conversation had been pleasant.
Unexpected.
...but pleasant.
He gave Joanna a polite nod.
"It was nice meeting you."
"You too."
Then he stepped off the bus.
A few seconds later he heard footsteps behind him.
He turned.
Joanna was standing there.
Duffel bag slung over her shoulder.
Grinning.
Zas frowned.
"Were you not continuing to Mingora?"
"I'll catch the next one."
"Why?"
Joanna smiled wider.
"Because somebody has to help you fix your
internet."
Zas stared.
Joanna started walking toward town.
"Come on."
"Let's go figure out what's wrong with your
internet."
...and for the first time that morning, Zas had absolutely
no idea what to do next.
Zas stared at Joanna.
Joanna stared back.
Neither moved.
Finally Zas spoke.
"You are missing your bus."
"I know."
"You have somewhere to be."
"I do."
"You are choosing not to go there."
"Correct."
Zas frowned.
The entire exchange made no sense.
People did not normally abandon their plans to follow
strangers into town.
Especially attractive strangers.
Especially attractive strangers they had known for less than
an hour.
His instincts told him something was wrong.
Whenever someone unexpectedly followed him, there was
usually a reason.
A threat.
An ambush.
A problem.
Yet Joanna radiated none of those things.
She looked excited.
Almost absurdly so.
"Teach me something."
"What?"
"Teach me something."
Zas blinked.
"Here?"
"Yes."
"Now?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Joanna threw her hands into the air.
"Because you're clearly seeing things nobody else
sees."
She pointed at him.
"You looked at one of my matches and immediately knew
what I was doing wrong."
"You have coaches."
"They tell me to smile more."
Zas stared.
Joanna sighed.
"I'm serious."
Then she suddenly dropped her duffel bag.
Zas instinctively took a step back.
Joanna planted her feet.
Raised her hands.
Adopted an athletic stance.
A very poor athletic stance.
Zas immediately noticed six things wrong with it.
"What are you doing?"
"Teach me."
"Here?"
"Yes."
"This is a road."
"Then teach me beside the road."
Zas rubbed his forehead.
This woman was impossible.
Yet...
He found himself smiling.
Just a little.
Before he realized it.
Before he could stop himself.
The realization unsettled him.
Joanna saw it.
"Aha!"
"Aha what?"
"You smiled."
"I did not."
"You did."
Zas sighed.
Joanna pointed dramatically.
"Victory."
"It is not a victory."
"It absolutely is."
Zas looked around.
The road was quiet.
A few travelers passed in the distance.
Nobody seemed interested.
Finally he exhaled.
"Fine."
Joanna immediately lit up.
"Really?"
"Really."
The grin that spread across her face was almost childlike.
She hurried into position.
"Excellent."
"You are standing wrong."
"What?"
"You are standing wrong."
"I literally just got into position."
"Incorrectly."
Joanna groaned.
Five minutes later she was still standing incorrectly.
Ten minutes later she was still standing incorrectly.
Fifteen minutes later she was beginning to understand.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Zas corrected:
- her
balance,
- her
posture,
- her
foot placement,
- her
shoulders,
- her
breathing.
Every time she thought she'd mastered something, he found
another flaw.
The process should have frustrated her.
Instead she seemed energized by it.
Eventually jackets came off.
The air was cool.
Their movements became faster.
Sharper.
More intense.
Joanna surprised him.
Not with skill.
With determination.
Every correction was immediately attempted.
Every failure was met with another attempt.
She fell.
Got back up.
Failed.
Tried again.
Failed.
Tried again.
Most students became discouraged.
Joanna became stubborn.
The more she struggled, the harder she worked.
Zas found himself respecting that.
Far more than he expected.
Hours seemed to disappear.
At some point he stopped thinking about:
- Phoebe,
- Armintie,
- Karim,
- the
Council.
He simply taught.
...and Joanna simply learned.
Then, suddenly-
Something clicked.
Joanna shifted her weight.
Turned.
Moved.
Everything aligned.
For the first time.
The movement flowed naturally.
Zas immediately noticed it.
"So that's what it's supposed to feel like."
Joanna stared at her own feet.
Then looked up.
Then looked down again.
Then looked up again.
"I did it."
"You did."
"I actually did it."
"You did."
Joanna let out a triumphant yell.
Several birds fled from a nearby tree.
Zas couldn't help it.
He laughed.
A real laugh.
The kind he hadn't heard from himself in a very long time.
Joanna turned.
Saw it.
...and without thinking-
She threw her arms around him.
Zas froze.
Completely.
His brain stopped working.
The hug lasted only a few seconds.
...but to Zas it felt much longer.
Joanna eventually realized what she'd done.
"Oh."
She stepped back.
A little embarrassed.
"Sorry."
Zas said nothing.
His thoughts were a battlefield.
Part of him wanted to retreat.
Part of him wanted to be suspicious.
Part of him wanted to ask why.
Another part-
A part he had spent years ignoring-
Didn't want her to let go.
That realization frightened him more than any ambush ever
could.
Fortunately Joanna was completely oblivious.
She simply smiled.
Grabbed his arm.
...and started walking.
"Come on."
Zas stumbled slightly.
"What are you doing?"
"We still have to fix your internet."
Joanna continued pulling him forward.
As though this were the most natural thing in the world.
Zas looked at her hand on his arm.
Then at Joanna.
Then at the road leading into Behrain.
For reasons he could not fully explain-
He did not pull away.
Together they disappeared into town.
Toward the internet provider.
Toward the next problem.
...and toward something neither of them fully understood
yet.
Behrain was larger than Zas remembered.
Not enormous.
Not like the stories he had heard about Rome or Aurelia.
...but large enough that people could disappear into it.
Joanna walked beside him, carrying her duffel bag over one
shoulder.
She had finally released his arm.
To Zas's relief.
...and disappointment.
The disappointment bothered him more.
"So you're really a warrior monk?"
"I never said that."
"You didn't deny it either."
"I am a member of the Blue Shield."
"Which sounds exactly like a warrior monk."
Zas sighed.
Joanna grinned.
"Do you fight bandits?"
"Sometimes."
"Wild animals?"
"Sometimes."
"Do you meditate under waterfalls?"
"No."
"What about secret mountain temples?"
"No."
Joanna looked genuinely disappointed.
"What do you actually do all day?"
Zas considered the question.
"Repair fences."
Joanna blinked.
"What?"
"Repair fences."
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
"That's your exciting warrior life?"
"Sometimes."
"What else?"
"Train students."
"Fight evil?"
"No."
"Protect sacred relics?"
"No."
"Hunt criminals?"
"Occasionally."
Joanna pointed triumphantly.
"Aha."
"That is not the majority of the job."
Joanna laughed.
"It is still cooler than my job."
"You perform before thousands of people."
"Yes."
"You are famous."
"I am not."
"You have your face on videos."
"That doesn't make me famous."
"It helps."
Joanna rolled her eyes.
The conversation continued all the way to the internet
provider.
The building itself wasn't impressive.
A simple storefront.
Glass windows.
Several desks.
A waiting area.
The logo of the local communications guild hung above the
counter.
Zas stepped inside.
Immediately his confidence evaporated.
Joanna noticed.
The warrior who had spent the last hour correcting her every
movement suddenly looked uncertain.
A young technician greeted them.
"Good morning."
"How can I help you?"
Zas approached the counter.
"Our internet is broken."
The technician nodded.
"Okay."
"What seems to be the issue?"
Zas paused.
"The internet does not work."
The technician waited.
Zas waited.
The technician waited longer.
"Anything else?"
"No."
Joanna immediately turned away to hide a laugh.
The technician rubbed his forehead.
"Let's start over."
"What equipment are you using?"
Zas blinked.
"The black box."
"The what?"
"The black box."
Joanna immediately stepped in.
"He means the router."
Zas looked at her.
"The what?"
"The black box with the pointy things."
"Oh."
"That's called a router."
Zas frowned.
The word meant nothing to him.
The technician nodded.
"Good."
"Do you know what model it is?"
"No."
"What lights are on?"
"It has lights?"
The technician froze.
Joanna froze.
Zas looked between them.
"What?"
The technician slowly typed something into his computer.
"Okay."
"Do you know where the signal comes from?"
"The cables."
"No."
"Before the cables."
Zas thought.
The technician waited.
"I do not know."
"Do you have a satellite connection?"
"A what?"
Joanna laughed.
A little too hard.
The technician smiled despite himself.
"Do you have a dish outside?"
"A plate?"
"No."
"A large circular antenna."
Zas frowned.
"Maybe."
The technician stared.
"Maybe?"
"It is on the roof."
"You've seen it?"
"Yes."
"You know what it does?"
"No."
The technician looked at Joanna.
Joanna looked at the technician.
Both seemed equally amused.
Zas was not.
The technician eventually leaned back.
"I think we need to start from the beginning."
He opened a diagnostic worksheet.
"Tell me everything."
Zas frowned.
"The cables are plugged in."
"Good."
"...and?"
"It worked."
"Good."
"...and?"
"It stopped working."
Joanna immediately burst out laughing.
The technician joined her.
Even Zas eventually found himself smiling.
For perhaps the first time in his life, he understood how
Phoebe sometimes felt.
Everyone in the room seemed to be speaking a language he
didn't understand.
The technician finally wiped tears from his eyes.
"Alright."
"We'll figure it out."
"One question at a time."
...and for the next hour, Joanna became Zas's translator.
Not because she was an expert.
She wasn't.
...but compared to Zas she may as well have been a
university professor.
Together, they slowly began unraveling the mystery of Daral
Lake's dead internet connection.
The technician spent nearly an hour extracting information
from Zas.
By the end of it, he looked exhausted.
"So let me see if I have this right."
Zas nodded.
The technician pointed at his screen.
"You have a satellite dish."
"Yes."
"Connected to a satellite modem."
"I assume so."
"Connected to a router."
"The black box."
"The router."
"The black box."
Joanna was trying very hard not to laugh.
The technician continued.
"The router is connected to a main computer."
Neither Zas nor Joanna had known that before today.
The technician pointed again.
"The main computer then manages ten separate
terminals."
"Apparently."
"Apparently?"
"Karim never explained any of this."
The technician sighed.
"Right."
Karim.
The dead man continued to complicate things.
As the conversation continued, more details emerged.
Karim had:
- controlled
the firewall,
- controlled
user permissions,
- controlled
content filters,
- controlled
network settings,
- controlled
passwords.
All from the main computer.
A main computer that apparently sat inside a locked room.
A room only Karim had routinely entered.
The technician stared at the ceiling.
"Oh."
"Oh?"
"This is worse than I thought."
Zas frowned.
"Worse?"
"A little."
The technician turned the monitor around.
"If the problem is the router, that's easy."
"If the problem is the satellite modem, that's
manageable."
"If the problem is the dish, annoying but
fixable."
He pointed at another section.
"...but if the problem is the network
configuration..."
His expression darkened.
"...then I need information."
"What information?"
"Pictures."
"What pictures?"
"Pictures of the equipment."
"I do not have any."
The technician nodded.
"Then I need settings."
"I do not have those either."
The technician nodded again.
"Then I need somebody to log into the system."
Zas remained silent.
The technician already knew the answer.
"You don't know the password."
"No."
"The account name?"
"No."
"The router login?"
"No."
"The administrator credentials?"
"No."
The technician closed his eyes.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
Finally Joanna asked:
"Could you just send somebody?"
The technician laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it wasn't.
"Eventually."
"How eventually?"
"Maybe a week."
"A week?"
The technician shrugged.
"Maybe."
"Maybe?"
"We service the remote communities when crews are
available."
"Daral Lake isn't exactly around the corner."
He wasn't wrong.
A crew sent to Daral Lake was a crew unavailable elsewhere.
The economics were simple.
The result was frustrating.
Zas felt his mood sink.
A week.
Possibly more.
The Elder would not be pleased.
The community would not be pleased.
...and worst of all-
The trip might accomplish absolutely nothing.
The technician noticed.
"I wish I had a better answer."
Zas nodded.
He wasn't angry.
Just disappointed.
Then Joanna snapped her fingers.
The sound startled everyone.
"I have an idea."
The technician immediately looked worried.
Zas looked worried too.
Joanna ignored both of them.
"We go to Daral Lake."
Zas blinked.
"We?"
"Yes."
"We."
Joanna pointed at herself.
Then pointed at him.
"We go there."
"We take pictures."
"We document everything."
"We figure out what's connected to what."
"We come back."
The technician considered it.
Actually considered it.
Then slowly nodded.
"That would help."
"It would help a lot."
Joanna grinned.
"There."
"Problem solved."
"It is not solved."
"It is partially solved."
"It remains unsolved."
"It is less unsolved."
The technician laughed.
"She's got a point."
Joanna looked triumphant.
Zas looked tired.
Then another problem occurred to him.
"You have a show."
Joanna paused.
"Oh. Right. Mingora."
The technician raised an eyebrow.
"You wrestle?"
"Professionally."
The technician squinted at her for a moment.
"Wait…"
He leaned closer to the screen.
"Do you—hold on—do you wrestle under a different
name?"
Joanna tilted her head.
"Maybe."
The technician snapped his fingers.
"Oh!"
Recognition.
"I've seen you. Trinity Dark?"
Joanna pointed.
"Yes. See?"
"Maybe I am famous."
"You are not famous."
"I am a little famous."
The technician laughed.
"A little."
Joanna turned back to Zas.
"Easy."
"You come with me."
"What?"
"You come watch the show."
"What?"
"I'll get you in."
"I do not have a ticket."
"You don't need a ticket."
"I was not planning to attend."
"Now you are."
Zas stared.
Joanna continued.
"I'll get you backstage."
"I do not know what that means."
"It means places normal people don't get to go."
"I do not care."
"You will."
The confidence with which she said it was alarming.
The technician seemed to agree with her.
That was even more alarming.
Eventually Zas sighed.
The sound carried years of accumulated exhaustion.
"Fine."
Joanna immediately pumped a fist into the air.
"Yes."
Zas already regretted this.
Not because of the wrestling.
Not because of Joanna.
Because of what came after.
Daral Lake.
The Elder.
The Council.
The rules.
Visitors rarely entered the valley without permission.
Especially outsiders.
Especially outsiders from distant cities.
Especially outsiders who happened to be blonde professional
wrestlers from Cleveland.
Joanna would not understand any of that.
Not yet.
...but Zas did.
...and as he watched her celebrate a victory she did not
realize she had won, he quietly prepared himself for an argument that had not
happened yet.
An argument he strongly suspected was coming.
Sooner rather than later.
Phoebe stared at the laptop.
Then she turned it over.
Then she turned it back.
Then she looked behind it.
Armintie watched from her own bed.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm trying to find the cable."
"There isn't one."
"There has to be."
"There isn't."
Phoebe frowned.
That answer was unsatisfactory.
Everything connected to the internet with cables.
That was simply how the world worked.
She knew this because Karim had told her so.
The computer terminals at Daral Lake all had cables.
The big computer in the locked room had cables.
The black box had cables.
The internet itself was apparently made of cables.
At least that had been her understanding.
Yet somehow this laptop was connected.
Without any visible cable.
It was sorcery.
There was no other explanation.
Armintie was having similar difficulties.
She had spent the last twenty minutes watching videos.
Actual videos.
Not downloaded videos.
Not stored videos.
Videos appearing instantly from somewhere else.
The experience remained deeply unsettling.
...and addictive.
Mostly addictive.
"Watch this."
Phoebe held up her screen.
Armintie glanced over.
A cat immediately fell off a table.
Phoebe burst out laughing.
Armintie followed a moment later.
"I don't understand why people upload these."
"I don't understand why they're funny."
"They are funny."
"They are."
The two girls laughed again.
The hospital room felt remarkably different from Daral Lake.
The internet alone made it feel like another planet.
No timer.
No waiting.
No restrictions.
No Karim standing behind them asking what they were doing.
No warning messages.
No blocked pages.
Just...
Everything.
It was overwhelming.
...and fascinating.
A knock interrupted them.
Both girls immediately looked up.
The door opened.
Dr. Amina Idris stepped inside carrying a tablet.
Her expression was calm.
Professional.
...but warm.
A good sign.
Phoebe immediately sat upright.
Armintie did the same.
Both had been waiting for this.
Neither had spoken much about it.
...but both had been thinking about it constantly.
The tests.
The bandits.
The missing memories.
The blackouts.
The uncertainty.
Amina closed the door behind her.
Then smiled.
"Good news."
Phoebe's entire body relaxed.
Not completely.
...but enough.
Amina sat down.
"The pregnancy tests are negative."
Phoebe closed her eyes.
A breath escaped her that she hadn't realized she'd been
holding.
Beside her, Armintie visibly relaxed as well.
Amina continued.
"No sexually transmitted infections."
"No signs of sexual assault."
"No evidence of physical injuries associated with
assault."
Phoebe swallowed.
The words hit harder than she expected.
For weeks she had carried uncertainty.
Now, finally, she had an answer.
Not certainty about everything.
...but certainty about that.
Amina glanced between them.
"I know both of you were worried."
Neither girl denied it.
"There are still memory gaps."
"There are still unanswered questions."
"...but based on everything we've found so far..."
Amina smiled again.
"...there is no indication that either of you were
sexually assaulted."
Phoebe lowered her head.
A few tears appeared.
Not tears of sadness.
Relief.
Pure relief.
Armintie reached across the gap between the beds and
squeezed Phoebe's hand.
Phoebe squeezed back.
Amina gave them a moment.
Then continued.
"The rest of the physical examinations also look
good."
"No major concerns."
"No hidden injuries."
"No diseases."
"No significant complications."
Armintie raised a hand.
"So we're healthy?"
"Physically?"
Amina nodded.
"Yes."
The answer made both girls smile.
It felt like the first genuinely uncomplicated good news
they had received in months.
Of course, Amina wasn't finished.
"There are still additional tests scheduled."
Both smiles immediately shrank.
Amina laughed.
"Nothing alarming."
"More evaluations."
"Follow-up appointments."
"Psychological assessments."
Armintie groaned.
Phoebe groaned louder.
Amina seemed entirely unsympathetic.
"Those are important."
"We know."
"They are."
"We know."
Amina smiled.
The girls sounded exactly like children being told to eat
vegetables.
Eventually she stood.
Before leaving she glanced at the laptops.
"Enjoying those?"
Phoebe immediately pointed.
"How does the internet get into this thing?"
Amina laughed.
Armintie pointed too.
"...and where are the cables?"
Amina laughed harder.
As she stepped through the doorway she shook her head.
"I'll have someone explain wireless networking
later."
Phoebe frowned.
"Wireless networking?"
Amina disappeared into the hallway.
"Magic."
The door closed.
Phoebe and Armintie looked at one another.
Then simultaneously looked back at their laptops.
Neither was entirely convinced Amina had been joking.
The bus hummed steadily as it wound through the mountains.
For once, Zas wasn't looking out the window.
Joanna had somehow migrated closer.
Not enough to be inappropriate.
Not enough that anyone would stare.
...but close enough that her shoulder occasionally brushed
against his.
Close enough that she seemed entirely comfortable sharing
his space.
Zas wasn't.
Or rather-
He was.
That was the problem.
The feeling unsettled him.
There was a warmth to Joanna's presence.
An energy.
Something difficult to explain.
He found himself oddly aware whenever she moved.
Fortunately, Joanna remained blissfully unaware of the
effect she was having.
"So."
Zas immediately recognized the tone.
It was the tone people used before asking dangerous
questions.
"So?"
Joanna smiled.
"You got a wife?"
"No."
"A girlfriend?"
"No."
Joanna blinked.
Actually blinked.
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
"How?"
Zas frowned.
"How what?"
"How do you not have a girlfriend?"
Zas stared.
Joanna gestured vaguely at him.
"You're a super hot sexy warrior monk."
Several passengers glanced over.
Zas immediately wished to disappear.
"I am not."
"You absolutely are."
"I repair fences."
"That does not change anything."
"It should."
"It doesn't."
Joanna leaned back.
"It's a shame."
The words were casual.
Offhand.
Almost playful.
Then she added:
"Because you're a good man."
The smile vanished from Zas's face.
Joanna noticed immediately.
The change was instant.
Something had landed.
Something important.
She hadn't meant to.
...but it had.
The bus continued rolling through the mountains.
For a while neither spoke.
Then, unexpectedly-
Zas broke the silence.
"I have children."
Joanna sat up slightly.
"You do?"
"Twins."
The surprise on her face was genuine.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"A son and a daughter."
Joanna smiled.
"What are their names?"
"Arel-Sin."
A small smile appeared.
"...and Phoebe."
The smile disappeared.
Joanna immediately noticed.
Something was wrong.
The way he said Phoebe's name.
The way his voice changed.
The way his eyes lowered.
"Where are they now?"
Zas stared at the floor.
"I do not know."
Joanna blinked.
"What do you mean you don't know?"
The question hung in the air.
For a long moment, Zas said nothing.
Then the words began to come.
Slowly.
Carefully.
As though he were removing splinters one at a time.
"Their mother died giving birth."
Joanna's expression softened immediately.
"Oh."
"I raised them myself."
The bus faded away.
The mountains faded away.
The passengers faded away.
Only the conversation remained.
"My daughter had a friend."
"Armintie."
"Phoebe loved her."
The way he said it made Joanna realize he had loved Armintie
too.
Perhaps not as a daughter.
...but close enough.
"One day they left."
He explained.
The merchants' sons.
The month-long disappearance.
The search.
Karim.
The bandits.
The deaths.
The rescue.
Joanna listened quietly.
For once she didn't interrupt.
Didn't joke.
Didn't tease.
She simply listened.
...and the story grew darker.
The unconscious Phoebe.
The bandits.
The rage.
The fear.
The uncertainty.
Not knowing exactly what had happened.
Not knowing what his daughter had endured.
Not knowing what Armintie had endured.
Even now.
The uncertainty still haunted him.
Then came the Council.
Armintie's exile.
Phoebe's anger.
Phoebe's departure.
The Elder.
The denied search party.
The silence.
The regret.
When Zas finally finished speaking, several minutes had
passed.
Joanna sat quietly.
Processing.
Trying to fit everything together.
Eventually she spoke.
"You thought you were protecting them."
Zas laughed.
A bitter laugh.
"I did."
"That doesn't sound unreasonable."
"It was."
Joanna frowned.
"No."
"It was."
His voice was firm.
Certain.
"I believed punishment would teach them."
"I believed correction would make them stronger."
"I believed rules existed for a reason."
He looked out the window.
The mountains slid past.
Ancient.
Indifferent.
"I was wrong."
The admission seemed to cost him something.
Joanna felt it.
Deeply.
"They were children."
The words came quietly.
"They needed guidance."
"They needed understanding."
"They needed someone to help them."
His voice cracked.
Only slightly.
...but enough.
Instead of looking at Joanna, he kept staring outside.
As though the mountains were easier to face.
"I just wanted them safe."
The sentence nearly broke her heart.
For the first time she truly understood.
This wasn't a tyrant.
This wasn't some rigid old traditionalist.
This was a father.
A father who had made mistakes.
A father who knew he had made mistakes.
A father who would do almost anything to fix them.
If only he knew how.
"If I could find Phoebe..."
He swallowed.
The next words were barely above a whisper.
"I would tell her I was wrong."
Silence followed.
Heavy silence.
Painful silence.
Then:
"I would tell Armintie too."
His eyes never left the window.
"I would tell them both."
Another pause.
"I would hug my daughter. I would hug Armintie."
Joanna's chest tightened.
The honesty in his voice was devastating.
Not because it was dramatic.
Because it wasn't.
It was simple.
Raw.
Human.
For several seconds she didn't know what to say.
Then she reached over.
...and took his hand.
Not dramatically.
Not romantically.
Just...
Held it.
Zas looked down.
Surprised.
Joanna squeezed gently.
"I think you'll see her again."
Zas didn't answer.
He wasn't sure he believed her.
...but for the first time in a long time-
He wanted to.
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